Not Today
by Reginald Kastle
Summary: {zexal rarepair challenge} Cooking is something Durbe's always taken for granted. [holyice; Durbe, Rio.]{food mentions}


Cooking is something that Durbe's simply taken for granted his entire life.

There's never been a need for him to do as such – barian forms take in sustenance in such a unique way of transferring energy that there's no need for preparations for the event, and he was never in human form long enough to find a need for the product they call food anyway, so when she calls him in to ask for help – after all, going from cooking for two to cooking for seven is quite a jump and one Merag is sure she cannot handle herself along with school and outside commitments that the rest of them share – he's quite bewildered as to what to do.

It's evident quickly that leaving a person who's not quite sure how to handle technology with something such as handling the oven – he picks up on it quickly, but nursing burns of a frustrated man is something she had to put up with from her brother for a long time, and prefers to not have to deal with it with Durbe as well – and he ends up left with the simple preparation events. He feels no bitterness and never bothers to ask or complain, as Merag knows what she's doing and has for a long time, and he finds something soothing about preparing salads and chopping vegetables that are almost immediately scoffed by Alit or Gilag, and knowing the very specific way Mizael takes his food is helpful in actually making sure he gets what he wants, because although he's warmed up to her and her the same, Merag's very forgetful for things she deems minor in the grand scheme of things, and well, their definitions of minor have always been quite debatable.

Even so, her methods of preparation are always so precise; like everything she does, she never presents anything she deems less than perfect, and keeping up with her is a challenge he accepts without hesitation. It's a testament to himself; _as if he'd let anyone get the better of him_ and though he's quiet and can keep to himself in ways that Alit or Mizael would never be able to, she knows he's just as deadly and uses it to her advantage as often as she can.

There's something especially interesting with watching him do anything with a knife. Though she knows that the small kitchen knives – ones that she thought that she would have to hide away when not in use in case of _someone_ thought it would be funny to use them, only to realize quickly that Vector won't step foot in the kitchen at all even if his life depended on it – have nothing on the swords that he used to wield in a life they once shared before the entire mess came upon them all; but even so, the experience passes over, and all cuts are smooth and perfect, so perfect that not even she can say anything against them, and boy, does that annoy her.

But there's something about the way he focuses on the object in front of him; lips press in a small, neat line that would look almost wrong on anyone else but gives him _just_ the right edge of severity to match each shot he makes. It's something simple, something that happens on an almost daily basis that she's seen plenty of people do and has done so a hundred times herself, but there's just something about the way Durbe does it, the way Durbe nibbles at his lip when he makes a mistake that just makes her want to smile, want to try and start a competition because maybe that way, with a sly smile and innocent eyes, she can suggest a prize such as _how about winner kisses the loser?_ And so what if Ryouga doesn't like it, he won't like anyone who she ends up with in the end, so why not play the cards closest to her?

"Can I help you?" he asks, eyes meeting hers, a coy smile hiding away as she blinks away the confusion, hand leaving her chin and running through long, blue locks that frame her face perfectly. "you've been staring at me for quite a while, is this" he holds the knife to the light, mirrors of her reflecting through the silver blade, dancing it before her eyes before turning back to the food. "Something that girls like to see? You seem to do it whenever I take on this job."

"Not all girls, probably. But there is a sight I'd rather see, to be honest."

Durbe raises an eyebrow, not turning from the food. "Really? Enlighten me."

The words catch in her throat; she's been given an opportunity whether sarcastic or not to make her move but something holds her back – she's not sure if it's the rejection, or just even the large step that she's never been afraid of before, but then again it's a new scenario that she's never been a part of before, so she thinks that maybe, just _maybe_, it's acceptable in this instance.

"Nothing." She dismisses, teeth gritting in a silent attempt at shutting herself off from what could potentially be very dangerous.

[Danger is something she definitely loves seeking out, but sometimes, and after the time they had spent recently, it was time for a little down time without any danger to keep her up at night.]

To her surprise, he chuckles, smile widening as he gives a silent _tsk_ that makes her almost ready to yell at him. "I'll get it out of you eventually." He mutters to himself, a soft shake of the head accompanying him as his hands guide the knife delicately over the last of the vegetables.

"_Excuse me?"_

He turns to her, eyebrow raised in curiosity. "What do you want me to do with these?" his hand lazily directs her to the food behind him, gently cleaning his glasses of the gunk it's acquired in his efforts at helping her. She in turn releases a groan, stomping her way past him and does the rest of the job for him. "Did I hit a nerve there?" he presses, watching carefully as she sighs, letting the vegetables fall into the pot in front of them.

"You're lucky there are things within touching distance that you could hurt yourself with, or I'd have taken your glasses and hidden them by now so you stop that."

"What, its only what you've been doing to me for a while now, why is it different when I do it?" the question is innocent, but she knows better; he wants more information, wants to know why she acts the way she does, and hides it away with the other information he stores on her behaviours to use against her later.

"Mine was unintentional." She reasons, a soft roll of the eyes joining her as he plops himself next to her. "And besides, don't you have anything better to do now that your commitments have been done for today? Don't you have homework or something?"

He shrugs, rolling his shoulders effortlessly as his eyes never leave her or her handiwork. "Do you want me to go away?"

Before she's realized, she's given herself away and ran her fingers down her face in frustration; the small nails scrape at her skin in a cathartic way, adding to the thoughts of _how can someone be this persistent and annoying but so cute at the same time_? that flutter through her mind almost constantly whenever he is around.

"No, I want you to do your job, but I have to do it instead, so you may as well get ahead while you can." She realizes too late that she's been too snarky, too hurtful with her comment and the instinct to apologize overwhelms her in a way she can and will suppress, but makes her feel ill all the same.

To her surprise – something he has a very good habit of achieving, of making her deviate from what she knows and how she does what she does, all with small, grey eyes hidden behind a thick pair of glasses – he scoffs, pushing his glasses closer to his face as he turns heel and walks to the door.

"If you say so, then I'll get onto it. Oh, and an idea. You should try and get ahead too. You don't have to do everything yourself, you know. We all know how capable you are, there's no need to try and prove it to us. So if you need help, or to just talk about whatever it is that's obviously bothering you" he pauses, spinning a pen between two fingers as he averts her eyes. "Well, you know where to find me."

Sincerity catches her off-guard, and she sighs, stretching her back gently as she stirs the pot in front of her. "I know. Thank you, and thanks for the help."

"Anytime. Oh, and Merag?"

"Mhm?"

"Nasch won't like it anyway, but I'm sure he'd be at least a little more accepting of someone he trusts. Just some food for thought."

With that, he disappears from the room, leaving a furious Merag behind, teeth gritting as she realizes that he'd been using his powers to poke through her feelings again, _well stop making them so strong_ she'd remembered Ryouga saying but _still_; it's not fair, and as her cheeks burn a bright crimson, her head rests against the tip of the rangehood in front of her.

She makes a special effort to ruin Mizael's food that night.


End file.
